


Moulin Rouge!

by pleasant_surprise



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: F/F, F/M, I swear it's good, Just check it out, M/M, Moulin Rouge! AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 10:50:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11599104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasant_surprise/pseuds/pleasant_surprise
Summary: Otabek Altin is an aspiring writer who finds a new home in Montmartre, living among the Children of the Revolution. As soon as he arrives, he is thrust into the whimsical, idealist world of the Bohemians. As fate would have it, his new friends bring him to the Moulin Rouge, where he encounters the love of his life, the Sparkling Diamond, Yuri Plisetsky. However, Otabek isn't the only one who has eyes for the striking courtesan. The Duke of Leroy's House, Jean-Jaques Leroy is competing for Yuri's affections. This makes for a dangerous game that the two must tiptoe around. But in the end, the greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return.Special thanks to the-angry-walnut-fairy and thelittlestweeboo on tumblr! Without them, this story wouldn't be what it is!





	Moulin Rouge!

**Author's Note:**

> I made a playlist to go along with the story, and it's in order. I'll update it to go along with the story :) But here it is, and I hope you enjoy! ( I don't know how to work this, so you may have to copy and paste... sorry!)
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/user/22iv7w6lztazkwpvlz3zxuvcq/playlist/3UeADpXI2vBOUBXWYBRACw

    Otabek stared at the glass that lacked the luster it once had. He twirled it around in his fingers, the red liquid in it running despicably low. He glared at the paper that laid in his typewriter, waiting to be finished. Nothing would come to him. He had spent the last few weeks pouring everything he had into his story. All he had left was the introduction, oddly enough.

    “No,” he thought to himself, pushing the inclination away. But once again, he ignored the voice telling him what was best. Turning his head to the left ever so slightly, he spared a glance at the abandoned theatre across the street.  _ Le Moulin Rouge _ . His throat burned already. Quickly turning away, he rose the dirty glass to his lips, and drank the last of his wine.

_     The man he loved… Was dead. _

    “Yuuri?” his hoarse voice called out. The man he asked for sat in the corner, smiling dreamily at his bottle of absinthe and his lover, Victor Nikiforov. He had a peculiar look in his eyes, however, not unfamiliar to those who knew him.

    “Yes, dear boy?” Yuuri hiccuped.

    “I… can't figure out how to begin the story,” Otabek sagged in his chair.   


    “Didn't you already finish it?” Victor asked, innocently enough.

    “Yes, but I didn't finish the beginning.”

    “That makes no sense.”

    “I just need help--”

    “There's something I once heard from a boy,” Yuuri interrupted. Otabek turned to face him.

    “I think he forgot what he said, but I can remind him,” the drunken man continued. Suddenly, he leapt up from the heap on the floor, into a wobbly vertical state.

    “There was a boy. A very strange, enchanted boy,” he warbled, sauntering toward the balcony that overlooked the Moulin Rouge.

  
“They say he wandered very far, very far, over land and sea. A little shy, and sad of eye, but very wise was he.”

  
“And then one day… one magic day he passed my way,” Yuuri swiveled, staring Otabek down.

  
“And while we spoke of many things, fools and kings, this he said to me--”   


    “The greatest thing… You'll ever learn, is just to love, and be loved…” Otabek finished, his head in his hands. How naive he had been when he spoke these words. Nonetheless, he finished, typing it out, and finally ending his tragedy.

  
“In return,” he whispered.

* * *

“Shoddy room? Got it,” Otabek murmured, surveying his new home, a small space in a dingy hotel that he couldn’t even pronounce the name of.

“Unforgettable view? Check,” he continued, practically leaping out of his open window to look down on the street below and marvel at the city that stretched out before him. But most curious was the windmill that opposed him, situated in front of the building presumably known as the Moulin Rouge.

_ Don’t waste your life with a Cancan dancer at the Moulin Rouge!  _ his father’s voice echoed in his head. He couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his father’s pessimistic expectations for his son. But that’s why he escaped to Paris, isn’t it? To become part of the Bohemian Revolution! To become himself! To become a writer.

“Typewriter? Yep.” Otabek placed himself in front of his pride and joy, running his fingers over the sleek model he had just recently purchased. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Alright… there’s nothing in your way. This is just what you’ve been waiting for. So… time to write. And what better way to jump headfirst into the Bohemian lifestyle than writing about love? Except, you’ve got a problem there. You’ve never been in love,” Otabek rambled to himself. Already he was talking himself into another breakdown.

But suddenly, interrupting his self-pity session, an unconscious Swiss man fell through his ceiling. Just as quickly, a Japanese man dressed as a nun barged through his door. Otabek looked around the scene in a frantic state of bewilderment.

“Uh--”   


“Allow me to introduce myself! I am Katsuki Yuuri! Terribly sorry about all of this, we were just rehearsing for a play up there, called Spectacular Spectacular! What can I call you?” Otabek couldn’t take it all in at once.

“Otabek. And, um-” Otabek looked at the man, dangling unconscious from a rope through his ceiling.

“Oh, yes, that’s Chris. Unfortunately, he suffers from  _ narcolepsy _ ,” Yuuri tittered, pouring himself a glass of Otabek’s liquor, into a glass he procured from only God knows where.

“Mm-hmm, awake one moment, and then…” Yuuri explained, then mimicking Chris passing out.

    “Yuuri? I haven't quite finished writing the music yet,” a young man peeked down at them. His hair was pulled back into a half ponytail, and his brown eyes were wide with worry.

    “Hush, Leo,” Yuuri gulped down more of his drink.

    “Yes, how will we be done in time to show this to the financier later today?” another boy joined in, smaller than the first, and more meek.

    “And who will play the sensitive young Swiss goat herd, now that Chris is unconscious?” one more young man joined in, accompanied by his darker skinned friend.

    “Guang, Phichit, Seung, don't worry-- in fact, I think Otabek here can fix our problem. Join us upstairs, my boy!” Yuuri was already dragging Otabek out of his room.

* * *

    Miniature explosions resounded about the room, lights flashed all around, and peculiar noises rang out, leaving Otabek with the feeling he was in imminent danger. Yuuri waddled around the set drunkenly, nearly running into the backdrop decorated with large hills and blue skies. Seung-Gil cued Leo in, and the bizarre music began.

    “THE HILLS ARE ABLAZE WITH THE EUPHONIOUS SYMPHONIES OF DESCANT!” the cross-dressing nun warbled.

    “Oh, God, stop. That insufferable droning is drowning out my words! Leo, could we not stick to a little  _ decorative  _ piano?” Seung rolled his eyes, shoving his quill in the pianist’s direction.

    “I don’t think a nun would say that about a hill,” Phichit interjected.

    “What about, ‘The hills are vital in toning the descant’?” Leo suggested.

    “No, no, ‘The hills quake and shake’!” Yuuri joined in.

    “No! The hills… tone…” Guang began. Chris awoke from his slumber to offer up his suggestion.

    “The hills… inclinate… the symphonic melodies!” he shouted, and promptly fell back asleep.

    The incessant chatter was becoming all too much for Otabek to handle. He had a good suggestion, too. They just wouldn’t let him speak. It seemed he would have to get his idea out another way.

    “THE HILLS ARE ALIVE WITH THE SOUND OF MUSIC!” he sang out, his voice overpowering the din. All of their bickering ceased almost instantaneously. It seemed he was also able to wake Chris again.

“The hills are alive with the sound of music? I love it!”

“With songs they have sung… for a thousand years!” Otabek continued. He smiled, hoping they would like his continuation. Yuuri squealed in delight, as did the others.

“Incandiferous! Oh, Seung, you and Otabek should write the show together!” Yuuri suggested.

“Excuse me?” Seung was fuming. That was not what he wanted to hear.

“Goodbye!” he slammed the door behind himself, storming out.

“Oh, Yuuri, with Otabek here, we could write the truly Bohemian production that we’ve been dreaming of!” Guang was practically bouncing.

“But Yuuri, Nikiforov will never agree,” Phichit whined. He turned to Otabek, “No offense, but have you ever written anything like this before?”

“No?” Otabek answered from the ladder he was perched atop. The bohemians whispered amongst themselves, and Otabek picked at the feather in his ridiculous hat.

“What? The boy has talent!” Chris strode over to Otabek. He seemingly meant to plant his hand on the young man’s chest, but due to Otabek standing on the ladder, his hand fell in a  rather uncomfortable spot. Otabek gasped, turning red, and Chris quickly drew back his hand as the other stared.

“Nothing funny! I just like talent,” Chris giggled. The rest of them continued their hushed discussion, and Otabek strained to hear them.

“But how?”

“There’s no-”

“He’ll never…”

“Yuri.”

They all paused to look back at Otabek, who smiled sheepishly. Yuuri broke away from the group to explain. Otabek waited patiently.

“Otabek, my dear, we have a plan. We’re going to dress you in Christophe’s best suit, and bring you to the Moulin Rouge, passing you off as a famous Kazakh writer. Then, you’ll have a private meeting with Yuri, Nikiforov’s Sparkling Diamond. When you convince Yuri of how wonderful your writing is, Nikiforov can’t possibly say no to Yuri when he talks you up,” Yuuri told Otabek. However, Otabek couldn’t hear anything other than his father’s words in his head, warning him not to waste his life in the Moulin Rouge.

“I- I can’t do the show and go to the Moulin Rouge and--” he stammered, sprinting towards the door.

“Wait!” Yuuri called after him. He stopped, his hand just shy of the doorknob.

“Do you believe in beauty?” he asked.

“...Yes.”

“Freedom?” Leo chimed in.

“Yes.”

“Truth?” Guang smiled.

“Yes!”   


“Love?” Phichit continued.

“Love… above all things, I believe in love. Love...love is a many… splendid thing. Love lifts us up where we belong-- All you need is love!” Otabek preached to the group. Yuuri clapped his hands and cheered.

“See? You are the voice of the children of the revolution! Drink with us, and we leave for the Moulin Rouge!” Yuuri chuckled, heading over to a table and pouring absinthe into glasses for the group.

In the mere one shot of absinthe Otabek had downed, it seemed as though the fairy on the bottle was talking to him and the group. It flitted about the room, the hallucination dancing in a cheeky manner.

“I’m the Green Fairy, Minami!” it whispered devilishly, it’s snaggletoothed grin conveying pure mischief. The creature sang Otabek’s ballad about the hills, driving the group into a frenzy, shouting the ideals of the bohemian revolution as they began their trip to the fateful Moulin Rouge.

* * *

Otabek looked around in amazement at the wonder that was the Moulin Rouge. Scantily clad men and women danced around, their faces painted with heavy makeup and fake expressions. Rich men, young and old, threw money about, completely absorbed in the beauty in this underworld on display. His friends had to keep dragging him along, as Otabek was distracted by nearly everything.

Finally, they made it inside, but from there, things only seemed to intensify. Yuuri took the group to their reserved table, and Otabek couldn’t keep his eyes off of the women with colorful skirts, hiked above their hips, posing and dancing. Situated in the front of the pack was a man with gray hair, and a playful gleam in his eyes. A top hat rested on his head, and he wore a bright red suit jacket, sticking out from the bunch marvelously.

“ _ Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir? _ ” the women, known as Diamond Dogs, began. Music picked up, and the man presumably known as Nikiforov began strutting down the dancefloor with them.

“If life’s an awful bore, and living’s just a chore that we do, ‘cause death’s not much fun… I have just the antidote!” Nikiforov sang in a jolly fashion, twirling about and playing to the audience.

“And though I mustn't gloat, at the Moulin Rouge you’ll have fun!” he bellowed, gesturing to the grandeur of the space. His shouts of “Do the Cancan-can!” were mostly lost beneath the stomping, shouting, dancing, and singing. More men swarmed inside, demanding entertainment, and the Moulin Rouge grew louder, if that was even a possibility.

“Got some dark desire? Love to play with fire? Why not let it rip? Live a little bit!” Nikiforov waited on the steps with the Diamond Dogs, shaking their skirts and showing off for the guests. Nikiforov strayed from the group, dashing down the steps and into the rain.

“Outside it may be raining, but in here it’s ENTERTAINING!” he roared, the audience cheering in response. He ran back indoors, the girls chasing him.

“Do the Cancan-can! Yes we can Cancan! Outside things may be tragic, but in here we feel it’s magic!” Nikiforov smiled, hopping up the steps in front of the orchestra. He had whipped the audience into a frenzy, but it all suddenly stopped when he raised his hands.

“ _ Now do the Cancan _ ,” he whispered. Girls hurriedly took their places, and men watched in anticipation.

“BECAUSE WE CAN CANCAN!” he shouted once more, the music at fever pitch. It was all so much, happening all at once, but Otabek wouldn’t be overtaken by the madness once again. Surrounded by dancers, he belted out his feelings.

“‘Cause it’s good for your mind!” he grinned, dancing with his fellow bohemians.

“Psst, Otabek, we successfully evaded Nikiforov!” Yuuri patted his shoulder. Otabek smiled. Once again the music stopped, but this time, as everyone quieted down, the lights switched to cold, pale, blue. Glittering confetti rained down on them.

“It’s him! The Sparkling Diamond!” Yuuri whispered to Otabek.


End file.
